


It was worth it

by SilentWoods



Category: Beyonders Series - Brandon Mull
Genre: Beyonders, Death, Ferrin is 22, Hanahaki Disease, Jason is 24, JasonxFerrin, M/M, there's no age gap, too late
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-11-05 23:19:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11023695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilentWoods/pseuds/SilentWoods
Summary: He would suffer through the shortness of breath and pain of stabbing shifting stems if it meant he wouldn’t be left behind. If it meant he might be close to someone he loved as he slowly suffocated.It would be worth it.





	It was worth it

Ferrin had had a tickle in his lungs for a few days now and he refused to acknowledge what it meant. He suppressed every cough through sheer force of will while the group traveled, he hid every petal that appeared in his mouth when he woke up. He knew they couldn’t afford to stop, knew he was the least liked person there, it would earn him no favors to bring up this sickness.

Then it started getting worse. Every glance at Jason would shift the flowers in his chest. Caused a flutter of petals to move up his throat, caused him to cough up those petals, forced him to keep a mouth full of heather and dahlia until he was able to discretely rid himself of the flower parts. But, he would suffer through the shortness of breath and pain of stabbing shifting stems if it meant he wouldn’t be left behind. If it meant he might be close to someone he loved as he slowly suffocated.

 

It would be worth it.

 

Three weeks after the first tingle of flower in his lungs, Ferrin began to vomit up whole flowers. At night he would sneak off when he was sure everyone was asleep and the fire had burned down to just more than coals. He would get as far away from camp as he dared before falling to his knees and throwing up the beautiful flowers. It was always the heathers first. The long stems covered in clusters of flowers the color of purple pearls made him gag as they drooped from his mouth. They blanketed the ground, covering everything before him in a sea of soft purple. Then the dahlias would come. They were all different sizes, the smallest the size of the palm of his hand and the largest as wide as the length of his forearms to hand. He cried as these came up. The thick flowers scraping at his throat, catching on his tongue as they fell with soft thumps onto the heathers below.

 

Ferrin coughed and gagged the last flower up and gazed at it where it rested in his cupped hands. It was a two-toned flower, blue and white. The blue being just the right shade to match Jason’s eyes. He stared down at the flower as he cried. He watched his tears catch on the rounded petals and slowly glide down towards the center of the flower. He laid the blossom down on top of the others and started to dig. He couldn’t take the chance of leaving his flowers out in the open for Maldor’s soldiers to find and follow. When he’d finished, he went back to camp and fell onto his bedroll. Sleep taking him a little easier now that he could breathe.

 

Four weeks into his disease and Ferrin found it harder and harder to breathe. Nothing seemed to help and the flowers kept coming. Aram had almost caught him in the act of coughing up a flower, a medium sized dahlia, but bought the lie that he’d found it while they were walking. He’d placed the flower at the base of a tree when no one was looking. He walked at the back of the group now, volunteering to take rear watch so that he wouldn’t have to explain his constant coughing or why he arrived later than the rest to their destination. But then one day as he was heading towards the back to take his place he was stopped by Galoran.

“I would like Aram to take the rear guard today,” Galoran said. His already scratchy voice muffled to Ferrin’s ears as he carefully fought for breath.

“Sir?” He asked. He could feel the sharp end of a stem scraping up his windpipe.

“You take the rear guard every day,” Galoran explained. “It is unfair to ask you to keep taking that place.”

Ferrin swallowed a bud before speaking. “I am happy to fill that role, sir. There is no need for Aram or anyone else to do it.”

Galoran nodded. “Be that as it may, I would still feel better knowing you were not the only one who took up that post.”

Those words ended the conversation. Galoran’s word was law and Ferrin didn’t have the strength to argue with him on it. So, with fear tightening his already full chest, Ferrin began walking in the center of the group of guards with the people most important to the quest.

 

As they walked he watched Jason as he teased Rachel and Corinne about their choice of conversation topic, then acted hurt where the women switched to speaking telepathically. It was a pleasant distraction from the stems goring his lungs and the flowers clogging his throat. The group stopped only once to rest and eat before picking up their punishing pace again.

 

Ferrin held a hand over his mouth as he coughed while the other pressed against his chest in the hopes of stilling the stems inside. The sleeve of his shirt helped muffled the noise, but it didn’t go unnoticed. Ferrin coughed violently, tears beading in the corners of his eyes, as a flower filled his mouth. He reached in and pulled the dark wine colored dahlia off his tongue. He spared it a glance before pocketing it with the other flowers.

 

“What was that?”

 

Ferrin started and nearly began another coughing fit. “What’s what?” he asked. He rubbed at his throat as a jagged stem slid back down into his lungs.

 

“The thing you just had in your hand?” Jason asked.

 

Ferrin offered him a reassuring smile, “Nothing you need to be worried about.”

 

Jason didn’t look convinced but stopped asking questions. Ferrin was sure they’d start up again when they made camp that night.

 

They walked side by side through the forest for the rest of the day. Ferrin enjoyed the company since he’d been left behind the group, his inability to properly breathe slowed him down more than he would have preferred. It worried him, though, that Jason wasn’t where there was more protection. Just because they’d been left alone so far didn’t excuse any lack of caution. He voiced his worries to Jason, urging him to rejoin the group, but Jason refused. When asked why he would rather walk with Ferrin than his friends, Jason had just given him a confused look and said Ferrin was his friend too. In an attempt to get Jason closer to the protection the group ahead offered, Ferrin sped up his walking pace and pushed through the savage pain it caused him.  

 

The pace seemed like nothing for Jason, but for Ferrin it was torture. It felt like he was trying to breathe through a thick down feather pillow while sprinting at top speed. He wasn’t sure how long they’d been walking. Was it minutes? Hours? Days? Weeks? He couldn’t tell. All Ferrin knew was he couldn’t breathe. He was dimly aware of a voice calling in his direction as he stumbled over to a tree, but all he could concentrate on was getting rid of his flowers. He clung with one hand to the rough bark of the tree, the other curling around his middle as he doubled over and his mouth fell open. They fell from his mouth in waves with loose petals floating down around the buds and stems and blossoms.

 

If felt like they just kept coming. The heather’s long stems catching on his flesh and tearing it open while they fell from his mouth. The dahlia blooms coated in beads and flecks of his blood as they dropped from his sliced up lips. Still, green leaves made appearances every few moments, adding bursts of color to the dark scene Ferrin viewed through watery eyes. And finally, _finally,_ after what felt like years the flood of flowers stopped, but he still couldn’t breathe.

 

Ferrin gasped for air as his legs gave way and he fell into his flowers. His vision was blurred with tears as it began darkening around the edges. He felt hands rolling him over, cupping his face, pulling him against another’s body. Then, Jason’s face was in his narrowing line of sight. Those blue eyes filled with worry and fear. Ferrin saw his mouth moving, knew he was calling his name, but he couldn’t find the strength to tell him it was okay. And as his eyes finally slid shut all Ferrin could think was, _The pain was worth it._

 

xXx

 

Jason cradled Ferrin close to his chest. He had no idea what was happening. Why was Ferrin throwing up flowers? Was that why he’d been acting weird? Had he been slipping off in the middle of the night for almost an hour to do this? It explained his cough, maybe the reason he’d taken rearguard every day for the last two weeks. But why hadn’t he told anyone he had flowers coming out of his body?

 

Jason tipped Ferrin’s head back a little in an effort to help him breathe. The way Ferrin’s body lolled with the movement made a sick twisting feeling present in Jason’s gut. He ignored it as he pressed his fingers into Ferrin’s neck, praying he found a pulse there. When he found one he let out a stressed puff of air. The pulse was irregular with periods of intense beating followed by sluggish beats that were too far between. He listened to the desperate gasps of Ferrin’s body as he looked around for their group. Had they really fallen that far behind?

 

“Help!” He screamed in the direction they’d been walking. “I need some help!”

 

He looked back down at Ferrin’s flushed face and blue-tinged lips. Using the edge of his sleeve, Jason wiped the blood from Ferrin’s lips. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?” His eyes darted to the flowers that surrounded them and fear settled as a block of ice in his stomach. “How could you be coughing up flowers and not tell anybody?”

 

Jason called out again louder as he heard Ferrin’s breathing become more labored. It didn’t take long after that for a small portion of the group to come running to their aid.

 

“What is it?” Jasher asked as he jogged over to Jason.

 

Jason didn’t look up as Jasher squatted next to him. “He-he just started throwing up flowers and wouldn’t stop. And then I thought he was done and okay but he just collapsed. What do we do?”

 

Jasher glanced at the bed of flowers that Jason was kneeling on and signed. “Can you stand up?”

 

Jason nodded, he heard disgruntled sighs behind him and the sound of swords being sheathed.

 

“Alright, get up. We need to get you back to camp.”

 

Jason looked up at Jasher with anger. “Why just me?” Jason’s teeth were bared as he snapped the question.

 

“The displacer is as good as dead.”

 

“He’s still breathing!” Jason’s fury was evident in the curl of his lips, the hardness of his usually caring eyes, the red that was filling his cheeks. He reminded Jasher of a predator that had been prodded too many times. “How can you just leave him?”

 

Jasher raised his hands in a placating manner. “Alright, alright. We’ll bring him back.”

 

Jason hooked an arm under Ferrin’s knees and stood easily. He shrugged off the hand Jasher placed on his shoulder and walked away from the colorful pile of flowers.

 

When they got back to the camp Jason watched as Jasher went over to Galoran and spoke quietly with him. He went over to where some sleeping mats had been unrolled and, finding his own, gently placed Ferrin on it. He sat by Ferrin’s side and kept watch while the others finished making camp. Every time Ferrin coughed Jason checked his mouth for flowers. It didn’t take long for a pile to form.

 

“What’s wrong with him?” Rachel asked. She kneeled down across from Jason and handed him a plate of food.

 

“I don’t know,” he set the plate down beside him. “He just keeps coughing up flowers.”

 

“It’s Hanahaki disease,” Corinne said as she came to a stop next to Rachel. “Do you not have it in your world?”

 

“No.”

 

“It’s caused by unrequited love,” she explained. “Flowers fill up the lungs and stomach and if the object of the afflicted person’s feelings doesn’t love them in return, they slowly suffocate on the flowers.”

 

Jason looked at Ferrin, his cheeks a little less flushed than before and his lips just barely more red than blue. “Is there any way to cure it?”

 

“Their feelings must be returned or they must have surgery to remove the flowers. The surgery is dangerous and damaging, so most who contract this sickness don’t get it. There are no other ways to get rid of it,” Corinne explained.

 

“Why were Galoran, Jasher, and Drake conversing about whether or not to leave him?” Rachel asked. She’d set down her food, the things she’d heard the three men say made her stomach churn.

 

“It could be because Hanahaki is seen as a self-inflicted disease. Or simply because he’s a displacer and it seems like everyone but you two want him gone. This would be the perfect opportunity to get rid of him from their standpoint.”

 

Jason looked up at the blonde incredulously. “How could this be a self-inflicted disease?” He’d known about the hatred the others felt for Ferrin for a long time.

 

“He chose to fall in love. If he hadn’t then he wouldn’t be going through this.”

 

“You can’t choose whether or not you fall in love!” Rachel said upset. She watched as Ferrin wheezed a little harder than normal and Jason checked his mouth. She looked away as Jason pulled petals from between Ferrin’s lips.

 

“Not everyone sees it that way,” Corinne said gently. Her gaze settled on the flowers by Ferrin’s head. “Those are beautiful flowers and large too. It’s amazing he managed to keep this a secret for so long.”

 

Jason just looked at the clumps of heather surrounding the large circular dahlias. He would have agreed with her any other time, but knowing they were suffocating Ferrin sucked the beauty out of them.

 

Corinne left soon after the conversation had died and Rachel followed not long after, making sure Jason had a water skin before joining the others around the campfire.

 

Jason kept vigil over Ferrin for hours, only moving to grab an extra blanket for himself as the night began to chill. Ferrin didn’t stir throughout the night and in the barely-there light of the fire, Jason had a hard time gauging his progress.

When night turned to dawn and gave Jason enough light to see by he found Ferrin laying perfectly still. Panicking, Jason opened Ferrin’s mouth and found a thick petaled dahlia resting at the back of his throat.

 

“No, no, no, nonononono.” He pulled the flower out and placed it with the others before checking Ferrin’s neck for a pulse. When he didn’t find one he placed his ear to Ferrin’s chest listening for a heartbeat. “Please,” he prayed, “please let him have a heartbeat.” He listened and listened for the sound, but it never came. Frantically he started CPR.

 

“You better start breathing,” he said as he started chest compressions. “I fucking mean it, Ferrin. Start right now.”

 

He kept at it until his arms hurt and his lungs ached. By now people were starting to wake up.

 

Rachel came over and crouched next to him. “Jason,” she said in a soft voice. “Jason, he’s gone. You need to stop.” She placed a hand on his shoulder and felt him jerk as if he hadn’t realized she was there.

 

He looked at her with wild eyes, tear tracks marking both cheeks. “He can’t be gone.” Then, he turned back to Ferrin. “Wake up!” He gripped Ferrin’s slim shoulders and shook him. “Wake up damn it!” Jason smacked Ferrin, hoping the sting of impact would rouse him, but Ferrin remained limp in his grasp.

 

“Jason! Stop!” Rachel grabbed his hands and forced him to stop. “He’s gone,” she sobbed. “He’s gone.”

 

When Rachel let go of his hands Jason gently pulled Ferrin up and cradled him close to his chest. He smoothed back Ferrin’s hair and placed a kiss on his forehead before resting his own against Ferrin’s hair. He felt Rachel hug him as the two of them wept over the death of their first friend.

 

Jason wasn’t sure who gave the order to dig a grave, but he was thankful they had. After wrapping Ferrin in a blanket Jason took him over to the grave. He laid Ferrin’s body down gently and then placed the flowers he’d coughed up around his head. He laid the torivorian sword Ferrin had worshiped on his body and placed the flower that had suffocated him at the top of the pommel. Then they buried him. When the earth lay packed over top of Ferrin, each person placed a stone at the head of the grave.

 

“He was an excellent swordsman,” Galoran said as they all stood around the grave.

 

Aram huffed a laugh as he stared down at the fresh grave. “Sarcastic bastard was always good for a laugh.”

 

“He was a master strategist and humble about his skills,” Corinne added softly.

 

Rachel slipped her hand into Jason’s for support as they all looked to him to speak.

 

“Ferrin was a slave when Rachel and I met him, but his lot in life never seemed to have corrupted him. He was kind to us when we were out roaming around, trying not to get killed. He risked his life running away from Maldor and joining our cause. He was just learning what it meant not to be enslaved,” Jason took a moment to swallow around the lump in his throat. “Ferrin was my best friend and a beautiful person who shouldn’t have died like this.”

Nobody said a word for a long while as they all stood around the grave, staring down at it. When they started moving again it was under a heavy cloud of feelings that no one attempted to break.

By the end of the day, Jason felt a tickle in his lungs.


End file.
